Dreamstate
by yunaluna95
Summary: A series of Oneshots with Eames and Arthur. From Angsty to Humor fanfics. All your Arthur/Eames needs in one fanfiction.
1. Sleep and Tell

Waking up from a dream is not at all a difference when you are actually dreaming. Half asleep and confused if it's reality or just another dream. Sometimes you can't just tell. It's like that Edgar Allen Poe's poem. "Is _all_ that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?"

A small shove jerk him from sleep. He raised his head off the desk. The beautiful French cuffs of his suit printed on his cheeks. "Eames." Arthur mumbled at the smirking man. Eames sat on top of the desk, messing all of Arthur's lovely organized paperwork. Eames saw The Point Man's forming frown and to Arthur's dislike, he purposely drop a pile of documents.

"Oops, sorry, darling." He said, his smirk turned into a toothy grin. Arthur quickly got off his chair and the sudden movement ached his once sleeping muscles. He let out a grunt as he made his way to a near by wall mirror. He flex his shoulders, straighten his dark grey suit and silk back his hair.

"Sometimes you remind me of women." Eames stated.

Arthur deadpans. "Mr. Eames, i'll make it nice and simple; Go away." Arthur said as he bend over to pick up the fallen documents.

"That was hardly nice." He said, his eyes glint with amusement. "And besides, how would i leave? The view is more lovely from here." Arthur straighten up as fast as he could. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He turned to face Eames and his smug look. He tried to hit him with his best glare but it was futile. You can never faze The all mighty Forger. He's a tease and Arthur was his gorgeous victim.

"That wasn't ap-" but before Arthur could say anymore, Eames, as magical as he is, was in front of him. Arthur frowned deepen, _Bastard was more than few inches taller then him_. "Oh... but, Darling..., he lean in, his cool, hard jaw pressed against Arthur's hot, rosy cheek, you do look positively adorable when you get irritated of me." His voice was barely a whisper.

Arthur's reflexes was to back away but Eames was two steps ahead of him. He wraped his muscular arms around his waist. "What...? I-i.. What are-" He yelped in surprised as The Forger ever-so-innocently kissed his pale neck. He smiled with a joy of getting a noise out of Arthur's lips.

Slap!

Well, that wasn't expected. "You are a fucking bastard!" Arthur yelled, quitting the room.

"Oh com'on! You know you want me!" Eames yelled back at him with a permeant smirk on his face.

"Shut up!" Eames' smirk only grew bigger. "And stop fucking smirking!"

**((A/N: This is a first. As in first slash. I gotta say I am quite happy. More then happy actually! This goes out to you, Lindz, I love yew 3))**


	2. White Lights

**Note)) Thanks for the reviews! This is a bit dark. But i was in the mood because of my music and Edgar Allen Peo's short stories (a bunch). I warn those readers that aren't really liking the dark stories that has one self cutting themselves.**

**Hope you like it and i don't like using betas so bare with me.**

White light from the sun is blinding. The hot sand engulfed their feet with a warm comfort. The endless dream was perfect for them both. They both agreed that they would love to stay here for as long as they could. But Arthur felt the feeling fade. He can't live like this, not after Mal. He sat in the edge of the bed, holding himself. Endless morning. Eames loves the morning. Arthur never really understands why. Maybe it was the way the light hit the salty water. Glittery. Keeps you in a daze. He got off the bed quickly and moved towards the large window that was facing the beach. He can't live like this. Even if it's for Eames, He just can't. He found himself scratching his arm. He stared at his nails sink trough the skin. He didn't stop. He kept going. It felt real. It felt better. He draws blood. The long scratches begun to bleed and the drops fell to the hardwood floor.

That's when it all started. Eames noticed them right away of course, but Arthur shrugged it off, saying that he was really itchy. Arthur, then, thought of different places to do it. Behind his thighs, arm, his neck (Eames thought it was his fault). Arthur, every time when they finished, takes a walk to through the woods into a clearing. He had sharpened a rock before and hid it somewhere in the forest. Eames was clueless. He didn't know what he was going through. Eames loves it. Being able to hold his lover without the constant problems. Of course, Arthur doesn't blame him.

One day, Arthur was staring out the window when he felt arms around his waist. Eames nuzzled his head on Arthur's shoulder.

"What are you thinking about, darling?" Eames whispered.

"I'm… thinking of what am I going to do after this…" Arthur said. Eames backed away slightly.

"What… What are you talking about?" He stuttered out. Arthur turned around to face Eames, his face was blank and Eames couldn't see behind it. Not this one. The blank stare was excruciating to Eames. He felt that Arthur was off since a week ago. Arthur grabbed hold of Eames hands, pulling him closer. He creased a cheek, shushing him but Eames just stared, unsure if Arthur is playing a joke (Which is out of the question right away.) or he snapped and gone mental.

"Eames..." But that was all Arthur said. Eames grabbed Arthur's wrist.

"No, Arthur, what's wrong.. I-" He stopped, slowly turned to see Arthur's wrist. A small gasp escaped his lips. Arthur pulled his arms away, backing away in the process. From the back pocket he pulled out a small knife. "Arthur, wait, you have to think about what you're doing..." He took few steps toward him.

Arthur shook his head. "No, I already have. I'm done. I thought I could handle this lifestyle but, Eames, I can't."

The next thing happened too fast, Arthur positioned the knife on the right side of his neck. He pushed into his skin quickly and slit his own throat. Eames cried his name. Of course, it felt real. That pain, the taste of the blood.

Then he woke up.


	3. London's Coffee Shop part 1

Arthur jerked awake as an attendance pulled up his seat. She excuses herself for waking him up and said that they will be landing in a few. He stared out the small window and watched the city of London coming closer into view. The plane dips down slowly and shakily. Shakes once more before it hit the ground. The plane went quiet, only the chatter of the people. He waited impatiently as the others for the flight attendance to finally open the doors. He shifts around a bit on his sit, checking his watch. 5:13 am in New York. 10:13 pm, here, in London. He let out a weary sigh. He heard the doors open and the people begun to stand up. Arthur straightens his back as he got off his sit. He made his way out of the airplane into the airport. After a half an hour, he finally left the airport with a cappuccino in his hands. He glances around for a taxi. He had been to London a couple of times, of course, but only to change flights. He grabbed cabbie and was off to a hotel in the city.

Arthur thanked the receptionist of the Langham Hotel and headed up to his room. He entered the lovely hotel room. It was probably the one of the largest suits they had and Arthur almost felt ridicules. Dom had already booked this room (practically an apartment, even a bit bigger) with his own money as some kind of thank you. Arthur sighed, shaking his head as enter the living quarters. This had a small table with three chairs and above it was a small beautiful chandelier. Living space with three armchairs and a large coach and large windows circling the room.

"Jesus Christ, Dom." He cursed. Searching for the bedroom. He opened a door. And. Well, the room was just as grand as the hotel. A four poster bed with large deep crimson curtain and the place was dimly lighted, almost romantic-like.

He places his suitcase and the cappuccino on the dresser. He slipped out of his brown jacket, placing it neatly on a nearby chair. Loosens his black tie. He opened the bathroom door and entered.

"Of course." He sighs. A bath in the middle of the room. He went to one of the sinks and turn on the faucet. Splashes cold water on his face in hopes that it'll help him awaken. Droplets trailed down his throat when his cell phone bleeps a couple times. He flipped it open as he left the bathroom.

_Eames: Darling, A little birdie told me you are in London. Why haven't you told me? I'm hurt. _

Arthur rolled his eyes, wondering if he should even answer. Ah, shit, Eames would probably keep texting him until he replies back.

_Arthur: Ariadne told you, right? I knew I can't trust her._

_Eames: Aw, you can! I had to really squeeze info from her. Took me days! Now tell me, why haven't you?_

Arthur sighed, grabbing his cold cappuccino and gulped it down. Eames and He have... an odd relationship. Arthur fucked it up. He, while looking down at the street from his room's window, grimaced at the memories. He remembers the exact date, what he wore, _(Especially)_ what Eames wore and where it happened. Rainy September evening, they were at a bar/club somewhere in downtown Montreal.

The bass beat was low and Arthur started getting a headache. This was the brilliant idea of Eames. After a rough job, Arthur knew he would need to relax and have a couple drinks before he leaves for L.A. Eames drag him here instead. 'Too loud.' Arthur thought miserably. He looked at Eames, who was obviously enjoying the irritating music, bobbing his head to it.

"Because We. Are. Your friends. You. Never been alone again! Well come on! Well come on! Well come on!" He sings loudly. Arthur, out of embarrassment, shoved him. Eames stops at once.

"Will you stop? Why did you bring me here?" He cried over the music. Eames smiles, inching his way towards the uptight arse. A mix of alcohol and smokes. It was uncomfortable close but Arthur didn't move. He just stared at him, glowering.

Music after music, more people left their tables to dance. Waitress brings more drinks. Arthur mumbled 'Thank-you' before taking his glass of the golden liquid and gulped it down in one single time. Eames pulled a face, shaking his head.

"You have to relax! Darling, it'll help. It shows. You look tense. The way you sit, straight back, shoulders leveled. The way you dress for tonight. Double-breasted jacket with bloody cufflinks!" He said, grabbing hold of Arthur's wrist to examines it. Arthur pulled back, narrowing his eyes. But Eames smiles that panty-dropping smile of his. "Shall we dance?" He suggested with a wink. Arthur's straight face cracked. A smile spread and started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. Never in his life have he laughed this much. Or maybe he thought it was. He didn't care if it wasn't. Just that look Eames made. Clutching his stomach, dimples shows. Eames felt like he should be insulted but Arthur's adorable dimples was too damn distracting. Maybe the drinks finally are getting in his head.

"So, you brought me here to... To... Woo me?" Arthur said, laughing.

"Well, is it working?"

Arthur stopped laughing and stared at him. Eames stared at him with his half-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips. His whole body language was screaming with want. Tension between them was getting thick. The sound of the music and chatter surrounded them but they paid no attention. So close, breath mingled. Eames couldn't handle it. It was practically intoxicating to be so near to this... beautiful, intelligent, witty, elegant person. In the moment, Eames leans in, pressing his lips on Arthur's. Arthur acted quickly, eagerly kissing back. Eames choked out a moan as Arthur bit his bottom lips. He shifts his body as he kisses Arthur even deeper. His lips manage to trail down Arthur's jaw line towards his neck, biting and licking.

"No... Not h-here... E-Eames..." Arthur stuttered out, pulling Eames' hair, eyes close tightly.

No, they went back to the hotel room and Arthur missed his flight and not only that but waking up that morning was very awkward and unpleasant for him. He felt strong arms wrapped around his waist. He jumped out quickly and saw a _very _naked Eames. In. His. Bed.

"Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!" Arthur cried, grabbing his wrinkled pants off the floor. He threw the blanket at Eames, waking him up.

"Darling, I was sleeping." Eames mumbled through the pillow.

"Fuck you!" Arthur snarling at the English.

"Already? I thought you had enough last night. But if you insist..." He pulled himself up.

"Stop! No! Eames, you fucking used me! I would never had..." Arthur groaned, his nails dragged through his hair. "No, never mind. I have to catch another plane. We'll have this another time." He said, before he entered the bathroom for a shower. After his shower, Arthur peeked out and notice he was alone and couldn't help but sigh in relief.

Since then, Arthur made sure that he will never talk to Eames about that. Actually never really talked to him since. He knew he was stupid for taking such a cowardly and stupid way out but he could not face him. Couldn't face his smug face and a look that says 'Yup, I fucked you'. He never wanted his relationship with Eames be this complicated.

_Arthur: Slipped my mind. _

_Eames: Bollocks._

**A/N: So, I hope it was good. I did a shit load of research on London because, for a matter of fact, I never actually visit. Yup, I used Google Maps and started to look up shops, parks, Langham Hotel, ect, ect. I had to stop there because I wanted it to be kept 1k or lower for each chapter. Also, Links to the beautiful hotel room that i hopefully described well. It's was called The Infinity Suite.**

**Okay, cool, thanks for reading and hopefully even giving me a review. Post part 2 as soon as possible. **

**I don't use betas. Jus sayin'**


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